The Pacific Ocean Doesn’t Know I Have Cancer – 13

Monday May 4, 2015

Monday was a day consumed with a promise my niece Lynn (she lived with me for a few months during this time) and I had made to ourselves that we would get to the beach. Each day has been filled with so many activities and so many things to do that the beach always ended up on the bottom of the list.  As we looked at the weather in the morning, it appeared that it might be a very windy and possibly a gloomy day at the beach.

But Monday was a day we had saved and we decided to go no matter how high the waves were or even in the absence of a sunny day. It was the day that even the cruise liners could not dock in some ports on the California Coast and were rooted to San Diego. It was sunny when we left our home just 12 miles from the Oceanside beaches. We were pleased when we got there that the sun was shining. It is just as interesting at the beach when the ocean is angry and so it was on Monday. The waves were very high and the white water was extensive, but the day was beautiful.

The ocean was terribly interesting and it remained windy, but tolerable.

We took the time for Lynn to stick her foot into the ocean and continued to mosey along the beach to enjoy. The dipping of the seagulls and the sounds of the crashing waves against the rocks and sand were musical. There were no brave surfers in this surf. It was apparently just too dangerous. But the Pacific Ocean remains interesting no matter what the weather.  It has its own life and you miss the greatness of it if you expect it to conform to your schedule of viewing.  The Pacific Ocean doesn’t know or care whether or not I have cancer. It has remained the mammoth that it is whether I am viewing it on the shore or at it in a ship or from an airplane from above. It is an amazing creation always full of wonder and always full of the unknowns.

As I watched the seagulls swoop along the beach I wondered whether there was a Jonathan Livingston Seagull among them. I suppose not because Jonathan would have been out way beyond the beach exploring the horizon. Jonathon Livingston Seagull is a story about a special seagull who was always looking for new horizons rather than picking up scraps behind the ships as the other seagulls did. But that is another thing to ponder.  Like Jonathon Livingston Seagull, I have never been happy accepting the scraps on the beach. I have always looked and will continue to look beyond the horizon for more exciting and new adventures.

It was a day to savor for both of us; the fact we took time to go to the beach was important. It forced us to look again at the reason for writing what we are trying to accomplish with this writing.  Once a medical diagnosis is made, the mind and consequently the attitudes and behaviors change. So much thought is given to the diagnosis, the medical advice, the appointments and the prescriptions, etc.  We can be free of all of this because we can choose to take the time to be free. Cancer or no cancer we learned again that the great things in our lives and the universe of the Creator would not be different because of the cancer or any treatment that might ensue. Only my life would be different in so many ways because of a positive or negative attitude I might have chosen.

Otherwise, cancer consumes you and governs your life.


Gold Threads of Faith – 14


June 4, 2016

It seems that some days are uneventful, but I know that no day given to you as a gift from your Creator is meant to be uneventful. Within the twenty-four hours, things happen–sometimes more noticeable than others.  Perhaps that’s the essence. The plan is working perfectly. In the Midwest we used to say, “the skids are greased.”  Mother used to say, “smooth as silk.” There are so many expressions that portray those good days, those times when “you don’t have anything to write home about.”

But I submit that those days are more about a lack of gratitude, a lack of appreciation for what you are not seeing, feeling, or experiencing.


The California sun is warm this morning; if the weather reports are correct, it is supposed to be a hot one. The sky is blue; not a hint of a cloud. It was pretty quiet when I was taking  my walk, I guess the birds had already done most of their harmonizing earlier in the morning. A few darted across the sky; perhaps they know more about the weather than we do. The palm fronds are barely moving at the upper levels. They are waiting for the breezes that always come a little later. What a day.

I realized that the difficulty I’ve been having writing about Living With Cancer is because I have lived for so long without writing about it. I wrote about it. I seldom thought about it; there was nothing to think about. It did not bother me. I was busy living my life with it, not consumed by it. What you think, you become, is the axiom. I spend my time thinking about what I wanted, not what I didn’t want. I was consumed by the incredible things around me. The beauty of life, the joy of family and friends, and the amazing tapestry we can weave with the gold threads of faith.

So you’ll have to excuse me for not trying to report to you each day or week, or whatever, about my cancer. I will try for the sake of science, medicine, and faith to report things that add relevance to my uninvited guest in my body. I will seek the boundaries of my faith to help anyone who cares to understand the actions of the Great Physician.